


Recoup

by This_is_your_Heichou_speaking



Series: Cross My Heart [16]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, But with a fluffy end, Charlotte just cares a lot, Childhood Friends, M/M, Mentions of canon deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 15:01:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12534396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_is_your_Heichou_speaking/pseuds/This_is_your_Heichou_speaking
Summary: Unbetaed.





	Recoup

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed.

The knock came late at night, rousing Charlotte from the light daze she'd fallen into. She startled, looking around blearily for the large clock on the wall, and saw that it was quarter to two.   
  
The boys still weren't back, but this wasn't them. They'd have just walked in and perhaps tried to sneak past.   
  
The door sounded again, and Charlotte hurried to stand. Will and Jem may not be back but the rest of the Institute slept, and she would hate for them to wake up.   
  
It was storming heavily outside, and for a second Charlotte wanted to ignore the guest - an irrational fear of murderers and psychopaths alighting in her chest, but the moment was brief, and she creaked open the doors a little.   
  
"Hello?" she called. A hooded figure stepped forward into the light, revealing green eyes and pale skin, and Charlotte straightened.   
  
"Hullo," the boy replied, trying at a friendly smile, but he was shivering so hard it looked instead like he was holding back tears. "I- is this the Institution?"   
  
Charlotte nodded, automatically stepping back a little, and he smiled a little more gratefully but did not press forward into the space she'd given him. "I'm looking for a William Herondale," he said, and though his tone was soft and blasé Charlotte could see the nervous clenching of his fingers around the strap of his worn leather satchel.   
  
Something tight in her muscles relaxed little when he said the name. "Oh," she said. "Well you've certainly come to the correct place, except that he's unfortunately not here at the moment."   
  
"He's not?" The boys lips twisted a little in a strange way, but then he was smiling benignly at her again. "I'm sorry, do you... that is, do you know where I could find him?"   
  
"I have no clue what that boy gets up to," she laughed, "but he should be back any time now. It's certainly late enough." Her eyes softened as she took on his clearly soaked figure, and she stepped back to open the door wider. "Come in dear," she said. "You can wait inside just fine."   
  
His eyes widened, and with a grateful "thank you!" he stepped inside and lowered his hood. As he did, his face was cast into full light for the first time, and Charlotte had to take a moment to admire his beauty.   
  
It was a classical sort of beauty, the type that is simple but enchanting. His eyes were wide and bright green, and were perfectly framed by the heaviest, darkest lashes. Thick black curls sat atop his head in an impossible tangled mess, and Charlotte had to stifle the urge to run her fingers through the hair to neaten it. His skin was pale and smooth, but his cheeks were a healthy rose as the sudden warmth of the building manifested on his cold skin in the form of a blush. Full, pink lips were turned up at the corners in an open expression, and his smile was so pleasant and friendly Charlotte couldn't imagine him as anything but innocent, despite how utterly naive that sentiment was.   
  
She stared for an inappropriately long moment before realising herself, and gasped softly. "Sorry, I just-" she waved a little with her hands. "I- may I take your cloak?"   
  
"Oh!" the boy's eyes widened, and he hurried to remove the wet, black fabric from around his shoulders, revealing black trousers, a soft blue jumper, and black boots that came halfway up his shins. She took the cloak from him, noting the small, work-roughened hands and short, clean fingernails. As she reached forward to take a hold of the wet fabric, she couldn't help but notice the lack of black marks peeking from under his sleeves or collar. They could all be hidden, of course, but more than likely the boy simply didn't have any runes drawn into his skin. A mundane with the Sight, then? Someone in trouble?   
  
Perhaps even someone from Will's past, she thought, and regarded the stranger with new eyes. The boy, whilst being clearly very male and at least in his later teenage years - Will's peer then - was almost as short as she, who was short for even a woman, and awfully skinny to boot.   
  
She couldn't help a frown at this, but didn't let him see as she lead him to the parlour to sit down and rest his legs. It wasn't surprising to be an underfed child in London, but the way this boy held herself told Charlotte he came form a well to-do family, and that painted a slightly more sinister picture. Nevertheless, she told herself it was none of her business as she set about making tea for the guest. They all had their stories here, and if Charlotte knew anything it was that people would only talk when they were ready to.   
  
"I didn't catch your name," Charlotte hinted to the boy as she set the tea tray down in front of him. He looked up at her, smiling sheepishly.   
  
"I'm so sorry," he replied, clasping the edge of the table. "My name is Harry Potter. I'm... an old friend of Will's."   
  
"Aaah," she nodded as if she understood, though she did not. "He hasn't mentioned you before?" Though to be fair, he didn't mention much of anything.   
  
"I'm not really surprised," Harry replied, and looked so sad in that moment she wanted nothing more than to comfort him. "He's probably not the type to talk about home all that much, right?"   
  
"Right," she agreed, though something in her bristled at the implication that the Institute was not home. She shook the feeling off as foolish on her part, and extended her hand. "Charlotte Branwell," she introduced herself. "Myself and my husband run this place."   
  
"Pleased to meet you." Harry shook her hand just as they both heard the front door open, and Charlotte watched as Harry's eyes widened, trepidation and want dancing across his face. She stood, and immediately the furious whispers silenced at the sound of her chair moving back.   
  
"Will, Jem," she called. "Come in here please."   
  
There was a gusty sigh, and then two sets of footsteps approached. As they neared, Charlotte could hear Jem telling his _parabatai_  that this was all his fault before the two boys stepped through the doorway.   
  
"Charlotte," the tall, silver-haired shadowhunter greeted her before Will moved past him to say something, only to be struck silent as Harry stood and turned to face him.   
  
"William," he said, and his voice had an oddly vulnerable tremble in it that made Charlotte want to look away. She couldn't help but feel as if she were intruding upon a highly private moment.   
  
"Harry?" Will's voice was less open as he stared at the boy, blue eyes wide in shock and surprise. "What on earth-"   
  
"Do you have _any_  idea how long I-" Harry started, clutching at the fabric on his chest, but Will cut him off.   
  
"I walked away for a _reason_!" he interrupted, voice harsh. "I didn't tell you where I was going _for a reason_! I didn't _want_  you to find me!"   
  
"And that was cruel of you," Harry told him, straightening his back. "You had _no right_ -"   
  
"I _am_  cruel Harry-" Will started, but this time broke off by the calming hand his _parabatai_  placed on his shoulder.   
  
"Will," the boy said. Will looked up at the ceiling as if praying for patience.   
  
"Jem, this is Harry," he introduced, waving his hands in the guest's direction. "Harry, Jem. Now," he said, turning to both of the other shadowhunters in the room. "Please leave whilst I converse with my... _friend_."   
  
Harry flinched as if slapped at the venom in that tone, his mouth set in an unhappy line. He wouldn't meet Charlotte's eyes as she slowly left, eyeing Will in a nonverbal order to calm down. Jem walked out after her, but not without a disapproving look at Will's tone. Not that the young man seemed to care.   
  
When they'd both left, Will closed the door behind them and gave Harry a meaningful look, which prompted the boy to reveal a stick of wood that had been up his sleeve all along, which he waved in the direction of the door accompanied by a few Latin words muttered under his breath.   
  
"There," he said, glaring at Will. "Now they can't hear us."   
  
"Brilliant," he replied, his tone heavily sarcastic. "Now tell me what, in the name of the Angel, possessed you to come here."   
  
"Apart from that I'm finally _able_  to?" Harry snarled, crossing his arms over his best as if he was cold. "I just graduated from Hogwarts, William. It took me a while to find you. I haven't stopped looking since you walked out."   
  
"Why-" Will broke off, running his hand over his face in frustration. "I left for a reason," he repeated, his voice hoarse. "I didn't _want_  to be found."   
  
"I was _worried_!" Harry exclaimed, his eyes suspiciously shiny. "You just _disappeared_  so suddenly, without a word. I had to find out from Cecily that you'd gone, and that Ella had _died_. From _Cecily_."   
  
"I-" the air seemed to whoosh out of Will then, and suddenly he just looked tired. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I know you were close with her."   
  
"Not as close as I was with you," Harry replied, his voice soft. "And I lost the both of you in one fell swoop. Will, why would you leave me?"   
  
Will swallowed heavily, closing his eyes. His eyebrows were knitted, and his arms were tensed where they were crossed around his chest, enough so that the shapes of his biceps were apparent under the material of his black shirt. He wouldn't look Harry in the eyes as he shook his head, unfolding them and instead bracing them against a table behind him.   
  
"I left to keep you all safe," he whispered eventually. Harry stepped closer.   
  
"From what, William?"   
  
"I-" Will broke off, "I can't- don't call me William,” he growled. Harry raised an eyebrow, and he sighed, closing his eyes tight. “Why can't you just believe me?"   
  
"Will." Harry's voice was incredibly gentle as he neared until they were standing nearly toe-to-toe, and he rested a hand on Will's upper arm. "William, you were _twelve_."   
  
"So?"   
  
" _So_ , opening that _Pyxis_ and letting out that demon was not your fault. Your sister's death was not your fault. And-"   
  
"And?" Will's voice was strangely angry, but Harry never flinched, calm green eyes looking steadily into his own.   
  
"And you were _twelve_ ," he repeated. "You made a split second decision in a moment of fear, and you've held on to it. You've convinced yourself it's the only way, but its _not_."   
  
"You know nothing," Will whispered, but Harry's touch was so gentle and loving he couldn't find it in himself to pull away. He _should_. He was endangering Harry like this, letting him touch his cursed self, but he couldn't let Harry's face crumple in hurt as he knew it would.   
  
And he hated himself for his selfishness.   
  
Harry looked like he wanted to argue, but thought the better of it. Instead he nodded and stepped a little closer, and Will couldn't help but notice the large differences in their heights and body shape.   
  
Harry was covered in a loose, soft jumper, so he really couldn't be sure of how fit he was, but his shoulders, while strong, were still petite where Will had grown up and out. He was so much smaller than him, the difference between them even more pronounced than it had been when they were still both children, and though Will knew Harry was more than capable of taking care of himself, he still felt the urge to shield him from all hurts.   
  
Harry put a hand on his other arm, leaning in until their faces were barely an inch apart, and said, "you know I have nothing to fear."   
  
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Will asked, unable to keep his hands from holding on to Harry's waist.   
  
"I mean, I can protect myself from demons. I have the means."   
  
"So do the shadowhunters," Will whispered, and it sounded like an invitation.   
  
Harry smiled, just an upturn of his lips, and nodded. "But not as completely as me," he added. "I have _nothing_  to fear." And then, moving his hand across Will's chest, he rested his palm over the shadowhunter's heart. "Not from being with _you_."   
  
And this was weakness, Will knew. If he took Harry back, who was to stop him from seeing his family again, from caring again, from letting Charlotte and Henry into his heart? But even as Will thought this he felt so tired that he just couldn't find it in himself to fight the fierce love that shone in Harry's eyes. Because Harry would not be turned away by gentle persuasion, and after everything Will could not find it in himself to resort to harsh words. Not again.   
  
"Harry,'' he said, not knowing what to say but remembering days spent up in the trees and nights spent in the same bed, of reading together and growing together and _I love you_  when they should have been too young to understand, but did anyway.   
  
"I know," Harry replied, lips soft on Will's cheek, "I love you also."   
  
Will leaned their foreheads against each other's, touching their noses together - just the tips, and smiled like he hadn't smiled in what felt like forever. "I love you best."


End file.
